When the Moon Comes, written by Paul Harbridge and illustrated by Matt James. Tundra, Penguin Random House. 2017. $21.99 ages 6 and up

"In December, before a single flake has fallen, the cold snap comes. For a week it is twenty below freezing, and when you walk in the woods, the leaves shatter under your feet like glass. The beaver flood is ice now. The cold has come so fast that not a piece of snow or ripple of wind has frozen into the ice. It glistens smooth and perfect in the cold sun. "Let's go now before we lose it," we say ..."

Those of us who live in cold climates know the wait for weather conditions to be just right for rinks and ponds to freeze, creating the perfect venue for outdoor hockey games. The conditions must be perfect.

The eager players are ready to head out. Arthur holds them back, asserting that they must wait for the moon. It is growing. When the snow comes, they all know it's time. Down the road and across the field, they are off to the beaver pond.

Preparations follow a set pattern.

"The fire crackles high and hot. We sit on logs and
face our open skates to the flames, heating them
right to the toes. The harsh smoke burns all our
eyes in turn, but it is warm and we do not mind."

The ice is perfect, but it needs the snow to be cleared. They are ready for the moon's ascent. When it comes, they skate out onto the best ice ever. Their game is on! Too soon it is time to leave and another ritual is observed.

"We fill a pot brimming with snow, and
when it melts down, fill it again and again until it is
full and boiling. We drink scalding tea and eat toasty
sandwiches, then tramp contented back into the night."

Time for home. Tomorrow is school. Teammates drop off as the warmth of each home beckons. Although the bed is warm, the pull to return is strong. It won't be the only game this season!

The text is splendid, filled with descriptions as crisp as the night air. Anyone who has experienced nights in a natural world where fresh-fallen snow hides such wonder will be fully aware of air 'biting noses and cheeks', 'the face of the sky freckled with stars', the sting and burn of the icy cold on ears and lungs ... and the invitation it provides to do it all again tomorrow night.

Matt James imbues every spread with the breath-taking cold of winter. His acrylic paint and India ink on board illustrations make me shiver thinking about the biting cold that winter brings. The beauty of the moonlit night shines on the players and their environs. Atmospheric and true to life for the many who experience bone-chilling cold on dark winter evenings, and the joy inherent in sharing such experiences.

Stephen Leacock's quote that opens the book is deftly chosen:

 “In a land so inescapably and inhospitably cold, hockey is the chance of life, and an affirmation that despite the deathly chill of winter we are alive.”